


Colours On A Canvas (Pinks and Purples and Oranges)

by barricadebastard



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Depression, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Sappy Ending, everyone's favourite fighting frenchman, kinda domestic ish i guess idk, kinda of second favourite fighting frenchman but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebastard/pseuds/barricadebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip is watching the sunrise. Georges knows that there's something wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colours On A Canvas (Pinks and Purples and Oranges)

**Author's Note:**

> i ship these two sooooo fucking hard okay

Philip stared out of the window, so absorbed by the swirling colours of the beginning sunrise that he didn't notice the sounds of footsteps until the kitchen door creaked open.

"Mon cher, are you okay?" a soft, accented voice asked. Philip turned around to smile at Georges.

"Fine," he reassured. He was sitting crosslegged on the cold kitchen tiles, wearing nothing but a large t-shirt. Perhaps, if he was in his right state of mind, he'd be embarrassed when he saw Georges' eyes flicker briefly to his bare legs. As it was, he was numb and incapable of feeling anything.

Georges moved to sit next to him. "Any reason you're awake this early?" He could feel Georges watching him.

"The sunrise is pretty at this time," was Philip's answer. Pale shades of pinks and purples, like a bath bomb, decorated the sky. It was beautiful. Philip wished he had his phone so he could take a picture.

"Did you wake up for the sunrise?"

Ah, of course Georges would notice when Philip avoided answering a question directly. The other boy knew him too well. He didn't know whether he should be glad that someone understood him so well, or bitter that he was so transparent to the other boy.

"No," he admitted finally. "I couldn't sleep."

Georges hummed in acknowledgement.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching the clouds drift lazily as the colours shifted and changed into lighter pinks and soft oranges. Philip snuck a glance at Georges, taking the opportunity to admire his features.

Georges was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. Perpetually bright eyes that twinkled when he laughed, high cheekbones, dark hair coiled into tight curls that fell into his eyes, full lips...

Philip stared at his lips for a beat too long before looking away.

Georges was beautiful. It was natural, Philip tried to convince himself, to fall in love when such beauty was in constant vicinity. It wasn't Philip's fault. Stronger men would have fallen victim to Georges charms.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Philip frowned. "Talk about what?"

Georges shrugged, a casual move with the same easy gracefulness of a feline. For a brief second, he imagined Georges with cat ears and whiskers before pushing the image away. 

"Your depression is bothering you," Georges answered. It was a statement, one that didn't need clarifying. In a way, it was nice to know that someone would always know when something was wrong and be around to offer help.

Philip sighed. The sky was now approaching the golden stage of sunrise and he decided to watch the blossoming colour instead of looking at Georges."There's nothing wrong. That's the problem."

"Hm?" So Georges didn't understand everything and sometimes, Philip would have to have a verbal conversation to convey his emotions. That was okay. Philip was capable of talking about his feelings. Except he wasn't, which was the entire problem.

"There's nothing wrong," Philip repeated with more frustration and anger than was warranted. "Everything's perfect. It's all I could ever have asked for. So why the hell am I upset? It's not rational."

"Mental illnesses are rarely ever rational," Georges said quietly, placing a hand over Philip's own. His pinky brushed the bare skin of his thigh and Philip suppressed a shudder at the warmth. "It's fine to feel upset for no obvious reason-" 

"It's  _ungrateful_ ," Philip interrupted and god, he could feel his eyes stinging, already blurring with unshed tears. Why was he crying? He felt ridiculous, childish. Who got upset for no reason, got even more upset for not having a reason and ended up crying about it all? "There are so many people in the world who are worse off. I have a roof over my head, food on my plate, my family is alive. There are people who  _don't_ have that, and  _they_ don't have depression. So what's wrong with me?" 

"Philip," Georges said firmly. His mouth snapped shut at the sound of his name from Georges lips. "It's a mental illness. You can't control it and it's certainly not your fault. You shouldn't feel guilty over something you have no control over."

Philip sighed and a single tear escaped, slipping down his cheek. He brushed it away impatiently. 

"Look at me, mon cher," Georges said softly and Philip didn't  _want_ to look at him because he was so beautiful that it was painful to see, but he met the other boy's eyes dutifully. Georges' eyes were bright and never-ending. Philip could probably stare into them for days. "Don't trivialise your own issues. Okay, so other people have problems too. That doesn't make your problems any less real."

Philip blinked furiously but it was too late - the dam had broken. He'd never felt so pathetic in his life, bawling on the kitchen floor in nothing but a t-shirt. Part of him wished that Georges wasn't around to see this but the other part of him yearned for the boy to comfort him, to hold him, to tell him that everything would be okay. 

Sure enough, Georges' arms were wrapped around his frame within seconds. The solid warmth of his body made Philip cry more and he  _wished_  he could stop crying, even just for a second, but all the insecurities, anxieties and frustrations of the past few days had been bubbling beneath the surface. At this rate, his sobs were going to wake up the rest of the house and oh, there was the guilt again. His father was sleeping properly for the first time in too long and here Philip was, sobbing loud enough to wake the dead. 

Georges' arms tightened. 

It could have been minutes or hours that passed until the tears dried up. Philip felt drained and exhausted as he pulled away from Georges, avoiding the French boy's eye. He had lain out his heart to him and now he felt vulnerable and stripped bare. 

The sunrise was almost over. Philip stood up, suddenly self-conscious of his bare legs. He tugged the hem of the shirt down in a futile attempt to cover more skin but all it did was draw Georges' attention to it. Philip felt his cheeks burn when he saw Georges' gaze flicker down and up again. 

"Sorry," Philip mumbled awkwardly. "I didn't mean to get over-emotional like that."

Georges was shaking his head. "It wasn't over-emotional. It's okay to not be okay." He lifted his arms up and Philip blinked for a second, baffled, before realising that Georges was offering a hug. After a split-second of hesitation, he stepped into it and Georges' arms were around his waist, a heavy weight that could comfort even the most unsettled. He sighed blissfully into Georges' shoulder.

"Thank you." 

"What for?" Georges replied immediately, rubbing soothing circles into Philip's hip with the pad of his thumb. Philip tried not to shiver at the almost... intimate touch. God, what was he thinking? This was one friend comforting another friend in a platonic manner and here he was, sexualising his best friend's touch. 

"For.. listening. For not freaking out. For caring."

Philip felt Georges smile and, for a second, thought he felt the brush of lips against the shell of his ear. Did... Did Georges just...?

"De rien," Georges reassured as he finally stepped away. "I would gladly do it again." 

Philip smiled and was about to say something when he saw Georges' gaze drop to his legs for the third time. Perhaps he would have dismissed it if it hadn't been for the suspicious darkening of Georges' cheeks when he looked away quickly. Philip began to weigh the pros and the cons, adding up all the small actions of their friendship that could have been mistaken for more. He didn't know for sure, he  _couldn't_ know for sure unless he asked, but...

Philip licked his lips, still thinking. When Georges' eyes dropped to his lips, he made his decision.

"I like you," he blurted, not even nearly as eloquent as he had planned.

Georges stared at him blankly, completely silent, and Philip cursed himself mentally. He'd read the signs all wrong! Georges  _wasn't_ interested in him, and now Philip had gone and embarrassed himself, ruining their friendship in the process. How humiliating! And Georges was staying in their household until he and Lafayette returned to France. There was no escape and-

"What do you mean?" Georges ask carefully. Philip fidgeted under the scrutiny of his stare but answered.

"I, uh, romantically?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I thought, never mind, fuck, I'man idiot, aren't I? I've fucked up  _so bad, shit-_ "

"Can I kiss you?"

It was Philip's turn to stare. Had he heard that correctly? 

"What?" 

"Can I kiss you?" Georges repeated. He was watching Philip like he was worried. Why was  _he_ worried when Philip was the one who had bared his heart and soul to the other boy? Philip quelled the urge to laugh hysterically.

"Um, please?" he replied, his voice small. Georges smiled cautiously, stepping into Philip's space. There was hot breath against Philip's face and, after a second, their lips were pressing together, soft and hesitant and perfect. Philip's blood was roaring in his ears and his ribcage was in danger of cracking if his heart continued to thump in the same erratic manner.

Georges' arm was around his waist again, this time pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Philip could feel the soft fabric of Georges' sweatpants against his bare legs and their lips reconnected, more hurried than before. Georges was intoxicating and Philip couldn't get enough. A tongue flicked against his lips and he gasped, opening his mouth to allow Georges entrance. 

Georges dropped his hand from his waist to the very bottom of his back before falling further to squeeze Philip's ass. His hand came up to grip Georges' t-shirt as he whimpered, arching his back and-

"What the  _hell_?" 

They pulled apart, surprised. At the kitchen doorway was Lafayette and Philip's father. Alexander looked worryingly pale as he gaped from Georges and Philip. Lafayette stood behind him, eyebrows raised but looking otherwise amused.

Georges glanced at Philip guiltily, as though it was his fault for getting caught. Philip realised, with a jolt, how they must have looked. Philip was still wearing nothing but a too-large tshirt and - his face burned at the memory - Georges' hand had been on his ass.

"Oh my god," Philip groaned, hiding his face in his hands. He'd never be able to look his father in the face. He'd never been able to look  _Lafayette_ in the face. And now his mother was going to hear about this and so were all his siblings and no one would ever let him forget what happened.

"Please," Alexander said weakly. "Please pick a more appropriate place to..." He couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence. 

Lafayette laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> i tend to reflect myself and my thoughts into my characters in terms of depression? so when philip talks about depression and his guilt and shit, that's me projecting my own shitty problems on innocent people oops
> 
> anyway. i ship them. sooooo hard. we need more fics for this ship. also theo x angelica. imma write ALL the fics for theo burr and angelica hamilton istg none of yall can stop me
> 
> i'm on tumblr [lafayettes-baguette](http://www.lafayettes-baguette.tumblr.com)


End file.
